


conflagration

by AvaRosier



Series: Writer's Block [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Historical AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: clexa 80s girl gang au, GO!</p>
            </blockquote>





	conflagration

Clarke strolled lazily along the abandoned train tracks, the metal rusted and nearly obscured by weeds. She took great pleasure in the way the gravel crunched underneath her boots. The weather was beginning to warm with the onset of spring, but Clarke always insisted on wearing her black leather motorcycle jacket, even with the sleeves rolled up to make room for her jelly bracelets. Raven and Octavia were back at the shop, probably drinking and tinkering with O’s bike. Maybe rigging Cage Wallace’s engine to blow out.

But Clarke, as she usually was lately, walked alone.

A familiar black camaro pulled up in the distance and Clarke sighed, coming to a stop. She scuffed the toe of her boots, contemplating for a minute turning and stalking off in the other distance. But she decided to woman up and face the traitor head-on.

“Lexa. Shouldn’t you be hanging out with the rest of the mallrats and giggling over Don Johnson?” It was unfair how the sight of Lexa made her all the more aware of how much she missed her ex-girlfriend. Just looking at her made Clarke angrier. Lexa looked so  _wrong_. She had traded in her dark eye makeup for a fresh-faced look, her leather jacket for a pair of Jordache jeans and a loose white crop top.

She looked so beautiful.

Lexa gave Clarke one of those close-lipped disappointed looks. “That’s unfair and you know it, Clarke.”

Clarke shrugged harshly, stepping closer until their faces were inches away. “You didn’t just walk away from this life when you hung up your jacket. You walked away from _me_.” She didn’t tell Lexa how much harder it was to fight this fight alone, to keep her friends from getting killed by the other gangs or by the Mayor’s corrupt police force, now that she was without the one person who had shared the burden with her. Harder than before she had met Lexa.

“It wasn’t easy for me to do that.” The emotion in her voice is genuine and it cuts through the white-hot rage Clarke felt right then. She had the urge to tear that stupid pink scrunchie off the side of Lexa’s head. Maybe that’d wake Lexa up, wipe that pleading look out of her eyes. She had been beautiful in a fight, all brutal efficiency. She’d probably end up ripping a few crimped strands out of Clarke’s scalp. But it hurt more, being this near her and wanting to be held like they used to back during those long, lazy rainy afternoons when they’d put her Poison albums on and take refuge in each other.

“But you did do it. You walked away and you don’t get to come around like this anymore.” Clarke bit each word out, low and menacing, making sure Lexa saw just how serious she was, before she stepped around her and continued on her path next to the tracks.

The city was going to  _burn_  tonight.


End file.
